Instead of Buried Alive
by Kaaos
Summary: Harry had never understood how people could just stop loving each other. He had certainly never thought it could happen to him. Tom/Harry
1. Chapter 1

**Instead of buried alive**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

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Harry and Tom had been together for 10 years. They had started dating on their sixth year at Hogwarts, after pretty much ignoring each other for the first five years. But after a truly horrific failed potions assignment, following fight, and shared detention, however, they had come to an understanding.

While Harry was a gryffindor, warm and passionate in everything he did, Tom was almost the opposite. He was the 'king' of slytherin and cold and calculating in most of his actions, sharing Harry's fire only when angered. But although they were very different, they also had enough in common to hit it off. They had both been raised in a more than lacking environment, both abused by the people who were supposed to take care of them, and both very ambitious to become something great. They quickly found in each other someone who understood, and accepted them, and they had become something of an item. They fought and argued, but they also protected and cared for each other, and even though they had never actually agreed that they were, indeed, a couple, they had become practically inseparable. They graduated from Hogwarts, moving together to their first real home at diagon alley and things had been peaceful. Tom had a job at the ministry and he had already made a name of himself, his dreams of greatness getting closer every day, and Harry was happily living his dream, working as a professional quidditch player.

They had never been particularly romantic or open with talking about their feelings with each other, they had both been more content and natural with showing their affection with passionate and bruising kisses and physical proximity. They were constantly touching, sitting on the sofa, side by side, reading, or walking with Harry's arm looped around Tom's. Lately though, Tom had been very busy with his work at the ministry, often coming home late and distracted. They talked about their days, during dinner and in bed before falling asleep, but every day they were keeping more to themselves and telling each other less.

They didn't fight, or avoid each other, but Harry had gotten the feeling that Tom was distancing himself from Harry. They still kissed, and smiled at each other, but it never lead to anything, and when Harry tried to touch Tom, attempting to show his support and devotion, Tom rejected him. He was never obvious with it, and Harry had thought nothing of it at first, but after a while he started to notice.

In response to the feeling of rejection, Harry started to withdraw from Tom. He stopped trying to touch Tom, and when Tom touched him, he didn't encourage him. They kissed out of habit and obligation and while Tom thought nothing of it, noticing that something was different, but not having enough energy to try to figure out how to fix it, Harry was feeling more and more hollow every day. He kept himself busy, pretending everything was fine, not wanting to think about it, or talk about it. While most of him was hurt and sad by how things had turned out, a growing part of him was feeling angry and bitter.

In Harry's mind it was that one night that broke the lie he felt he was living in. That night, Harry was feeling particularly affection starved. He craved for the feeling of another person's warmth, the feeling of strong arms around him. The feeling of being safe and loved. But laying in there, in the bed he shared with his partner, listening to the sound of his quiet, even breathing, he didn't want to touch Tom. Even if Tom didn't reject him, he didn't want to touch him, and it was that realization that broke his heart.

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I'm just getting back to writing, never remembered it was this hard. But, practice makes perfect, right? I'm thinking of writing maybe one or two more chapters, but I honestly don't know yet how this story will end.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom was in a bad mood. Again.

Nowadays that wasn't at all unusual, and Harry was once again contemplating whether or not he should just escape the suffocating and dark atmosphere, _again_ , and just leave Tom to dwell on his own misery and anger. He had been doing that more often lately, making up some lame excuse to get away from the apartment, away from him. Usually he just claimed he wanted to spend time with Hermione or Ron, or lied that he needed to practice some quidditch move or another. He felt vaguely guilty about lying, but it wasn't like Tom couldn't see right through him and his actions. He was almost certain that the other knew what he was doing, but just didn't care enough to do anything about it.

During the week it was easier for Harry to keep himself busy, and ignore his partner's irritability, but the weekends were harder. They both had most of the weekends off work, at least when Harry didn't have a game. He usually loved those free days, when he could just relax and spend time with the love of his life. Before, when things had been alright between them, they had often spent almost the whole two days together, cooking dinner, going out and just talking with each other. Lately though, Harry had felt he'd rather be somewhere else, with someone else, so he could just enjoy life and have fun, for the first time in what felt like forever. He just wanted, no, needed, to get to breathe without the constant negativity and anxiety Tom spread around like poison. Going away made him fee guilty and uneasy, but he didn't know what else he could do.

His home was no longer his shelter, it was no longer the place where he could feel safe and at peace. He wanted, more than anything, to get things back the way they had been, but he didn't know how, and he didn't have the energy, or the determination to try. He didn't want to risk being rejected. Not again.

The sound of something breaking and the following parseltongue cursing was what startled him back to reality. Cautiously, he got up from the bed where he'd been laying, and headed towards the kitchen. The floor felt cold against his bare feet, as he slowly and carefully walked down the short corridor. He stopped near the kitchen door and then hesitated. Tom had a bad temper, and he had the habit of taking his frustration out on him. Usually Harry could handle it just fine, he knew it was just the way the other coped. And Tom always made it up to him later. But today he was really not at all in the mood to be yelled at, hence the hesitation.

The swearing had stopped and it had been replaced by deafening, heavy silence that somehow seemed even more ominous. The silence was broken when a floorboard creaked loudly as Harry took a step closer to the door, arm raised, not quite sure if he should open the door and face whatever was on the other side.

"Tom?" His voice came out barely audible and disgustingly weak. He cleared his throat and flinched when he heard footsteps moving towards the door and it was violently pulled open.

His still had his arm raised when Tom stormed past him, barely glancing at him, almost pushing him over. The grim figure of his lover walked straight to the hallway, and soon Harry could hear the harsh sound of the frontdoor slamming. It seemed today was one of these days. Tom would be back later, propably after Harry had already gone to bed, alone. Then he would silently sneak to their bedroom and kiss Harry apologetically, while Harry pretended to be asleep. Or he would spend the night somewhere else, and then act like nothing had ever happened in the morning, pretending like he couldn't see the redness and puffiness of Harry's eyes.

He couldn't feel the hot tears that threatened to fall from his eyes, but he did sit down, resting his back against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest.

It wasn't meant to be like this.

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Tom did come back later that night, after Harry had made himself dinner, taken a hot bath and gone to bed. He was laying with his eyes open, staring at the wall numbly. The tears had already dried, but he couldn't sleep. Not until Tom would come home.

Eventually he did come, as quietly as always, and Harry could hear him taking off his clothes, dropping them to the floor carelessly. He could feel the mattress move as his partner slowly moved to lie next to him. It was hard to pretend to be sleeping soundly, mostly because he was quite sure Tom knew he was faking it.

He was waiting for Tom to come closer to him, so he could brush Harry's hair gently out of his face, and then press a kiss to his cheek or forehead, and Harry could think things could go back to the way they used to be.

The kiss never came.

"Do you still love me?" Tom's voice was smooth and soft as always, but Harry thought he could hear the finest touch of something similar to dread or fear. Harry turned around, so he could look at Tom, smiling reassuringly as he pressed his hand to Tom's chest.

"Of course I do", he said, not quite knowing if he was lying or not. Some of his uncertainty must have been visible, because Tom clenched his jaw and looked at him sharply, searchingly.

Harry smiled softly and laid his head on Tom's chest. Savoring the warmness and smoothness of the other's skin.

"I wouldn't lie to you", he said after Tom's arm had wrapped around him tightly. As if afraid he would disappear.

"I love you", it wasn't a lie. He knew he loved Tom. He knew he loved him, even if he could no longer feel it.


End file.
